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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811378">Cold Weather and Grass Blocks and Winter in the Nether</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_L/pseuds/nic_takes_Ls'>nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(inspired) - Freeform, 5x5 Challenge (Wilbur Soot), Biological Dad AU, Birthdays, Christmas, Cyan Candy Canes Supremacy, Exiled Tommyinnit, Father &amp; Son bonding, Fox Hybrid Wilbur, Gen, Ghostbur, Glowsquids for some reason, Hornbur, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Letters, Logstedshire, MANIFEST - Freeform, MCC - Freeform, MCC 13, MCYT Advent Calendar Prompts (Video Blogging RPF), NO BETA WE LIKE LIKE FUCKGN WILBUR SOOT APPARENTLY, One Shot Collection, Ram Hybrid Jschlatt, Ram Hybrid Wilbur, References to Wilbur's Past Videos, References to the Sky Gods, Sally not a good person in this, Secret Fox Hybrid Wilbur, Skyblock Randomizer, The Sky Gods, Trans Fundy, Twin Jschlatt, Twin Wilbur, WE DON'T KNOW NOBODY, Wilbur Soot-centric, Winter, hole in the wall, ig??, it's very likely these will be mainly, milo - Freeform, wooooo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:09:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_L/pseuds/nic_takes_Ls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A small series of one-shots for amooniesong's MCYT Advent Calendar Prompts List!!! </p><p>1: Christmas Market: Wilbur and Tubbo<br/>2: Candy Canes: MCC 13 &amp; Cyan Candy Canes<br/>3: Snow: Wilbur and Fundy, Fox Hybrid Wilbur<br/>4 + 5: Wreath and Christmas Cards: (Wilbur &amp; Tommy) &amp; (Technoblade &amp; Philza), post-exile/Logstedshire<br/>7: Lights: (Wilbur &amp; Schlatt), Twin Ram Hybrids AU<br/>————— </p><p>Completed</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt &amp; Wilbur Soot, Previous Mentions of Wilbur Soot/Sally, Technoblade &amp; Philza, Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Philza, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit &amp; Tubbo, Wilbur Soot &amp; Fundy, Wilbur Soot &amp; Fundy &amp; Quackity &amp; Philza, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MCYT Advent Calendar Prompts 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Christmas Market (Wilbur Soot & Tubbo)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Wilbur shudders as he walks down the snowy cobbles, eyes flickering at every shape and colour and- person. There are so many.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He hadn’t remembered seeing so many people in one place before. Or more than one, actually.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
But here, there are crowds milling about and stopping at shop stalls full of bright red and green and silver and dazzling gold. Lights dangle from strings and as he passes under a strand of them shaped like stars, Wilbur gazes up and blinks at a snowflake caught in his hair.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He lets out an almost shuddery sigh, an exhale that let fog coil from his breath.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
It’s strange. Wilbur’s been cold but never cold enough to feel snow, or watch his breath condensate, or to have to pull his arms tight around himself to stop from shivering.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Snow feels like a ghost’s cool brush of fingers on his arms and the mustard-yellow sweater he’s worn <strike> he’s always worn, <em> always worn </em>, hasn’t he?</strike> Isn’t enough to keep the bittersweet cold from biting at him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Wilbur moves from his frozen pose under the star-shaped lights and tucks himself to a side of the busy street between a pair of stalls.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
He sits on the floor, ignoring the feel of damp snow on his clothes. Watches the world <strike>is this <em>The World</em>?</strike> go past.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
He’s never felt so unexposed, somehow, in the shade and shoulders lax and ambient noise of voices so different like the one’s he’s heard whispered before ignore him perfectly. There is no breeze, no wind tugging at his neck and a vast world of empty and open and nothing, from between the two stalls.</p><p> </p><p>Over an hour passes and Wilbur’s watched a woman and a child squabble over the possibility of getting a stuffed doll, (“It’s less than a month till Christmas!”) a man ponder over the differences between silver or platinum in an engagement ring of the same model, (It has to be special enough, it’s Christmas!”) and a bored girl clearly sick of standing at her stall call out in an increasingly hoarse voice that she was dropping prices. (“Merry <em> fuck</em>ing Christmas, now everything is 50% off!”)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Wilbur wonders what ‘Christmas’ is.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
His arms become numb, eyes sting and tears rivulet from his eyes every now and then, but it’s much nicer than nothing and magma and drowning and nothing and red flashing into a <em> BOOM </em> and nothing once more.</p><p><br/>
Wilbur closes his eyes and the world, the new one so strange and sheltered melts into a buzz in his ears and a thrum in his chest.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
He almost goes to sleep.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
But a hand <strike>there’s only been one other touch than the wind and this is not it-</strike> claps on his shoulder gently and tugs. It’s a small hand, it feels, and it doesn’t belong to <em> him. </em></p><p><em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em>Wilbur jolts awake and his stinging eyes flutter open to see a small young brown-haired person looking at him, relief flooding his eyes as Wilbur moves.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Oh my god, I’m sorry to scare you, really, but- You look really cold.”</p><p> </p><p>The voice is very nice to hear. It’s aloud, not imagined, and it brings Wilbur’s consciousness to full alert. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh. Sorry?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
His voice creaks as it slips from his lips, unused as it is.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
The brown-haired kid- clad in a heavy green coat and with a blue scarf lashed loosely around their neck, furrows their eyebrows.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be sorry. Your lips are really blue and you’re not even shivering. That means you’re too cold.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur blinks blearily at the kid. The kid huffs.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“My name is Tubbo. Are you drunk?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“No.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Lost?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“A bit.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Where do you live?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Wilbur closes his eyes once again and lets the silence grow between them like a garden.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Right. Well. Phil’s going to love you.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Wilbur feels something drape around his neck and flashes his eyes open to see Tubbo tucking one end of the blue scarf under the other. Under his chin.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Tubbo meets his gaze and a small smile gives Wilbur a shock.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Schlatt’s smiles, when he was finished with his exasperated act or the pair had successfully avoided another grisly unnatural death, looked like that one.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
He’s aware his eyes are wet once more not just from the cold as Tubbo pulls him to his feet, and he leads him through the crowds and cobble and crystal glittering lights to a building with windows lit inside with an orange glow.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your name again?” Tubbo asks, his warm eyes and open face like a balm on Wilbur’s chipped thin heart.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“I never told you. Wilbur.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Right. You’re out of server right?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
A hesitant nod.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Okay. That’s all we have to say. We’ll go talk to Philza, and then you can meet my brothers Technoblade and Tommy, right? We’ll warm you up.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Tubbo pushes open the door and a wave of heat flushes Wilbur’s face and oh- it’s much better than nothing and numb.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
A tall man steps forwards and casts a look over Wilbur’s worn clothing and winter-blue lips, the over-long hair and dazed expression. Tubbo’s warm woolen scarf around his neck.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
He extends a hand.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“I’m Philza. And you?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Wilbur.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2: Candy Canes (Wilbur, Quackity, Phil, Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I DON’T KNOW NOBODY!”</p><p> </p><p>Quackity’s voice turns to almost pure static over the communicators and Fundy’s cuts off halfway into a rather loud scream.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur leaps through a hole, yelling a loud ‘E’ as he does. He can almost hear Phil’s baffled and slightly afraid laughter over his and his teammates’ chaos.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m fucking dead! Do you know how- NORTH! N! N!” Fundy’s voice blares through Wilbur’s ears and he whirls around and quickly slips through another cutout portion of the pink slime before he and Quackity let out another sound of general chaos.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck is my life anymore?” Phil’s voice is barely audible through his own chuckles and Quackity’s screech;</p><p> </p><p>“SEVEN!”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S NOT A FUCKING DIRECTION!”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I DON’T KNOW NOBODY!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quackity’s voice turns to almost pure static over the communicators and Fundy’s cuts off halfway into a rather loud scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur leaps through a hole, yelling a loud ‘E’ as he does. He can almost hear Phil’s baffled and slightly afraid laughter over his and his teammates’ chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m fucking dead! Do you know how- NORTH! N! N!” Fundy’s voice blares through Wilbur’s ears and he whirls around and quickly slips through another cutout portion of the pink slime before he and Quackity let out another sound of general chaos.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What the fuck is my life anymore?” Phil’s voice is barely audible through his own chuckles and Quackity’s screech;</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“SEVEN!”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“THAT’S NOT A FUCKING DIRECTION!” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A roaring of blood in Wilbur’s ears as he ducks through a wall and then jumps over another one doesn’t disguise Phil’s stutter of surprise and subsequent dejected cry as he presumably falls off the platform.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That one wall took out so many people!” Fundy hisses through the communicator. “Phil! How could you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur and Quackity leap through another slot in a wall, the sudden scarcity of people a bit shocking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! There’s Dream in here still! I mean- I DON’T KNOW NOBODY!” Quackity yells, obviously shocked at his own survival so far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N! N! NUH!” Fundy calls, and the rest of the team joins in, communicators crackling and popping with sound.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The walls speed up once more and soon Wilbur loses track of his teammates’ instructions, sticking one shaky landing after the other, Quackity in his specially worn sky-blue uniform beside him. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>They clear a particularly frustrating set and Wilbur heaves a breath and wipes his curls from his eyes and as he blinks, notices the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> small amount of competitors they’re up against. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Quackity- I think-”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I DON’T KNOW NOBODY! QUACKITY WHO?” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Right.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A piston pumping starts up behind them and Wilbur whirls around and jumps, but it was too early and he’s stuck in the wall and tossed off the edge. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He sighs from his place on the soft flooring and clambers up the stairway to stand on the glass platform beside the rest of his team, who are hollering, Fundy’s with a giant fanged grin. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur looks down at the arena. “What-” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Quackity is one of two people still on the arena; the other being Scott. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Holy shit. WE DON’T KNOW NOBODY!” Wilbur brings up his communicator on his wrist to his lips and joins in the imploding chaos that is the Cyan Candy Canes’ voice call.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The three disqualified teammates begin shouting the syllables of the walls’ names once more and Wilbur realizes Quackity doesn’t know how close he is to winning. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur, Phil, and Fundy begin hissing a harsh ‘<em>S</em>’ into their communicators, and Fundy’s cuts out halfway through. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Quackity aces the leap, while Scott stumbles and misses, falling off the ledge with a held breath from everybody but Quackity. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“<em>ESSSSSSSS</em>-”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’s still yelling into the filtered mic, turning as if looking for the next approaching wall.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What happened to the walls?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur feels a wide smile pulling at his lips and nearly aching, and the soft incredulous chuckle of Phil is the only sound passed over the comms. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Where the hell is everybody?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Fundy’s voice comes through with a crackle and is slightly disbelieving.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Big Q- Big Q, you won.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Quackity glances back and forth across the stage, expression soon turning into a wide-eyed blank stare. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No, wait, what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A giant red toned ‘Round Over’ lights up everyone’s HUDs and Quackity begins to laugh maniacally. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No way, holy shit.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Every player suddenly appears in the lobby, and then the voice call implodes. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur can’t hear himself over Fundy’s resounding declares of not knowing anybody, Phil’s enthusiastic congratulations, and Quackity’s own hysterical muttering. He looks over to the leaderboards and gasps.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“HOLY SHIT! SECOND PLACE!” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur laughs as the rest of the team process his words and Fundy’s mic cuts out once more while Quackity sounds as though he’s hyperventilating. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No fucking way, mate, pog!” Phil pulls the three skinny kids that make up the rest of his team into a vicious hug and a ping from each other their communicators indicates a guest.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Quackity!” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Tubbo!” Wilbur grins from his place nearly bent in half under Phil’s arms. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“WHO THE <em>FUCK</em> ARE YOU, I DON’T KNOW NOBODY!” Quackity shouts before dissolving into incomprehensible laughter. “I- still can’t believe- Fuck.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My entire team’s gone to use the restroom, I’m alone. And also- Quackity, you’re a madman!” Tubbo’s voice is gleeful and warm, and Wilbur watches Quackity’s already wildly happy face turn impossibly more. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The madman in question pulls his beanie down his head further and merely chuckle. “Thanks And RIP to you, but the Cyan Candy Canes are different; Pissing is for pissbabies.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Fundy gestures to the lack of father figure around. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You mean Phil?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The members of the voice call break into delirious laughter, and it continues and gets only worse when Phil comes back on the mic.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What’s so fucking funny? What did I miss?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Fundy and Quackity are stumbling over their own legs and Wilbur’s forehead is on Fundy’s chest where they stand, all heaving and Tubbo’s gasping stuttering over the comms. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Phil, you’re a- a- a <em>pissbaby</em>!”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur becomes genuinely unable to breathe, and another ping from his communicator preludes a faux angry yell.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Tubbo, why aren’t you in your own VC, you idiot?” Tommy’s insult is powerless with the hint of fondness in the words. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“TOMMY, DID YOU SEE QUACKITY KICK YOUR ASS?” Fundy hisses to his own watch. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes. Tubbo. Let’s get out of the loser call.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A brief sigh is heard from Tubbo’s and he says with a smile audible, “Good luck guys! Good job Quackity, we’re going to beat your ass!”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The comms stutter with the influx of goodbyes and Wilbur makes out a ‘Good luck,’ from Tommy before they disconnect. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Phil sighs and glances at each of their smiles. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ready to make Tommy cry?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>MANIFEST MCC 13 CYAN CANDY CANES SUPREMACY WEEWOO</p><p> </p><p>also yes</p><p>quackity gets to win a game for a treat </p><p>serotnonim :)</p><p>(ALSO PLEASE TELL ME THIS ACTUALLY SOUNDS LIKE THEIR VOICES IM WORRIED LMAO)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3: Snow: Wilbur and Fundy, Fox!Wilbur AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s snowing.</p><p> </p><p>It’s snowing and it’s cold and Fundy is a heavy weight in Wilbur’s arms, wrapped in Wilbur’s warmest jacket and ears folded against their head.</p><p> </p><p>A small bang almost echoes in the quiet as Wilbur thuds his forehead against the fog-ridden window. He sighs and it only turns more opaque, a blur of the white-dusted world beyond the glass. His own white-tufted ears twitch.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Based quite a bit off of Zacixn’s Biological Dad AU HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739124</p><p>READ IT READ IT ADSSDH</p><p>Prompt: Snow</p><p>Chars: Wilbur and Fundy</p><p>Warnings: Sally is presented as a manipulative and emotionally/hints of physically abusive partner, approach with caution if this might not be content for you!!</p><p>Hurt/Comfort???</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s snowing.</p><p>It’s snowing and it’s cold and Fundy is a heavy weight in Wilbur’s arms, wrapped in Wilbur’s warmest jacket and ears folded against their head.</p><p> </p><p>A small bang almost echoes in the quiet as Wilbur thuds his forehead against the fog-ridden window. He sighs and it only turns more opaque, a blur of the white-dusted world beyond the glass. His own white-tufted ears twitch.</p><p><br/>
Wilbur heaves Fundy higher on his hip and turns the doorknob, cold even through his gloves, before stepping out into the bitter-cold breeze. Fundy makes a snuffle in their sleep and Wilbur takes the beanie from his own head and covers his child’s face from the wind with it.</p><p><br/>
It’s been a hard winter, as short into the season as it is, keeping the fire in his small house’s hearth constantly running while the rings under his eyes turn more and more purple. He wakes from a rare sleep to zombie’s decaying hands against his door, and then Fundy cries, and it’s all too much and too hard on his own. Wilbur’s been waiting months for Sally’s return; the last he had seen of her was the familiar sneer and sour twist to her full red lips before she left Wilbur to fend for a small child in his arms in a cottage unfinished.</p><p><br/>
There wasn’t even paint on the walls. </p><p><br/>
Truthfully, he’s almost relieved at her disappearance, no longer stepping around arguments and her temper like glass shards, the once nearly constant purpling of his skin when she got mad healed over and smooth. She had found out about his fox traits early on into their ‘relationship,’ and Wilbur had let her do what she pleased, let her get away with far too much while he was just stunned she didn’t care.</p><p><br/>
A week after she’d been gone and Wilbur’s energy and state of mind ripped to tatters, he’d finally laid Fundy in their nest of pillows on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room. He had slumped against the wall, eyes stinging, and looked at a glitter of light shining off Sally’s perfume bottle on the wood.</p><p><br/>
The memory of sickly sweet snowdrops and foxgloves and the pink-red hue of Sally’s hair and the pink-red hue of his own blood when her nails dig into his arms came back all at once and he took the vial and tossed it into the stream out of his house. The glass shattered over the rocks and his claws were extended, hands trembling like they always had used to.</p><p><br/>
He walked back inside, chest suddenly rising with panic for the few seconds he’d left Fundy but once he’d found them still asleep, so quiet and still, had burrowed his way beside them. Wrapped his tail around Fundy’s body and sighed into their hair.</p><p><br/>
That was months ago. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur had patiently waited for another glimpse of that red waist-long hair, of shaded green eyes and a stature almost taller than him, but Sally was gone and Wilbur couldn’t live like this anymore. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur let out a warm breath over Fundy’s ear still poking out from under his beanie and watched it curl into tendrils of fog. </p><p><br/>
A pack was near to bursting and slung over his shoulder, the house left emptied except for a bedframe carved with an exhausted man’s nails and a windowsill still smeared with a tiny handprint inside a larger one. </p><p><br/>
As he trudged through the thick snow that blanketed the earth so cold, Wilbur looked out at the stream he had chosen the location of his cottage for. </p><p><br/>
Now running under the thin sheet of dizzyingly shimmery ice, the waters were crystal clear and a salmon flashed past and swim upstream. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur turned his gaze to the tall oak tree that shaded his bedroom window, leaf-barren and still scraping the sky. </p><p><br/>
“We’ll come back here, Fundy. I promise.” </p><p><br/>
He spoke gently to his sleeping child and folded his ears back, tugged one end of the jacket serving as a blanket closer to Fundy’s body. </p><p><br/>
“You were born here.” </p><p><br/>
But for now they were headed to a place Wilbur had called home, for Wilbur to unveil his own abnormal features and Fundy’s and beg for help, if all went right. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur headed west, child on hip and arms bare to the wind, tall red ears exposed to the air in public for the first time since he was a kit. </p><p><br/>
Nothing went right.</p><p> </p><p>Four years later and Wilbur nuzzles into Fundy’s neck and the child starts laughing, pushing at their father’s chest and their ears flicking. </p><p><br/>
“Daddy, stop!”</p><p><br/>
“Alright.”</p><p><br/>
Wilbur pulls away and then wraps his fingers around Fundy’s thin wrists. Fundy blinks and then goes for Wilbur’s beanie, unable to notice the instinctive flinch their father gives as the knitted fabric comes off his head. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur’s torn and ragged ears slip into the light, poor and short and scarred. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur never had told his father and brothers about his fox traits. Not after they’d been mauled nearly off on his journey back to them.</p><p><br/>
But Fundy just blinks down to their father’s eyes and scrambles up his lap for a hug. Touches the back of Wilbur’s stubs of ears as gently as possible. </p><p><br/>
“Oh.” Wilbur melts into a hug around his child.</p><p><br/>
It’s still strange for Wilbur, when Fundy does those simple reassuring gestures, the mimicry of what Wilbur does to them. Fundy never had a tail, and Wilbur’s is a stump and a giant maw’s scar on his back, but Fundy curls into Wilbur’s side like they both do at night, makes the same chuffs and ‘calm’ sounds Wilbur makes to soothe them back to sleep. </p><p><br/>
The fragile press of small fingertips behind his ears makes Wilbur’s eyes turn glossy, and he makes a low warm rumble in his throat. </p><p><br/>
He’ll bring Fundy back to that stream, that tree, that land they were born, he reminds himself. </p><p><br/>
Fundy stop petting Wilbur’s ears and places the beanie back over his curls, then makes the soft yip meaning ‘outside’.</p><p><br/>
“Yeah.” </p><p><br/>
Fundy shifts as though ready to pull on their coat but Wilbur stands with them in his arms, grabs his own from where it hangs and drapes it over both of their backs. </p><p><br/>
Walks out the door.</p><p><br/>
It’s snowing.</p><p><br/>
It’s snowing and it’s cold and Fundy is a heavier weight in Wilbur’s arms this time around, wrapped in Wilbur’s warm jacket and ears swaying in the wind. </p><p><br/>
This house the pair live in is only ten minutes walk from Phil and Tommy’s, and there’s a thin trickling stream, but Wilbur knows that sooner or later, he’s headed back to that special place with his child hand in hand with his own. </p><p><br/>
Fundy sticks their hand out to catch tiny flakes of snow, disregarding the fact that Wilbur’s said a million times over that they’ll melt before they can lick them. </p><p><br/>
“Daddy, do I have a mother?” </p><p><br/>
Wilbur freezes and Fundy turns to see their father’s stunned glance, and makes a ‘calm’ noise in their throat. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur blinks and then sighs. </p><p><br/>
“You did, darling. She left though.” </p><p><br/>
“Left?” The voice is so small and innocent and soft and-</p><p><br/>
“Yes. She did.” </p><p><br/>
Wilbur holds Fundy the slightest bit closer in his arms and approaches the frozen over stream, snow crunching underfoot.</p><p><br/>
“Like a salmon, then?” </p><p><br/>
“I- I suppose. Yes. Sally was a salmon, and she- she swam away upstream.” Somehow a smile begins to spill over onto Wilbur’s face, and Fundy bursts into laughter. </p><p><br/>
Wilbur stands slightly taller, slightly stronger against the wind that blows snow into his eyelashes and onto Fundy’s nose. </p><p><br/>
He promises to take Fundy to that place one day and hopes they’ll stay this close forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4 + 5 = Wreath and Christmas Cards: (Wilbur & Tommy) & (Technoblade & Philza)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Technoblade gestures for Phil to start reading the letter in his hands, so he does. Awkwardly and starting with a stutter. </p>
<p>“‘D-Dear Philza Minecraft and Techno ‘Hippocritnoblade’ Blade-’ What does that mean?” </p>
<p>Techno makes a near shrugging motion with one of his shoulders. </p>
<p>“Keep reading.”</p>
<p>“Fine, right, all well and good then- <em>‘We, (Logbur, who is writing this letter- is this a letter? It’s more of a Logmas card- and Loggyinnit!) are wishing for you merry Logmas! As you may or may not have guessed, (i’m not sure) me and Tommy have changed our names in our new home of Logstedshire! </em></p>
<p>
  <em>There are skinned log walls and tents and BBH has left us a chest under Loggy’s very ugly dirt house. We are doing great!’” </em>
</p>
<p>Phil lowers the paper to his lap and sighs exasperatedly. </p>
<p>“Oh, my fucking god, they’re going batshit. Fuck, I knew it, I knew it-”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>LMAO I HAD TO COMBINE 4 AND 5 BC I HAD SUCH BAD WRITERS BLOCK SHIT YESTERDAY </p>
<p>this one is kinda shite but o well</p>
<p>also WEEWOO FUCK Ls GET LOGS </p>
<p>L'MANBERG WHO</p>
<p>I ONLY VIBE WITH LOGSTEDSHIRE</p>
<p>TOMMYINNIT??? BRO DONT TALK TO ME IF U DONT WATCH LOGGYINNIT BRUH</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Uh. Yeah. Wilbur had messaged me and- Uh. Asked me to pick up and deliver some Christmas cards he’d left in a chest. So I did.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Technoblade gestures to the envelope in Phil’s hands. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It reads ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merry LOGmas to Technoblade and Philza Minecraft. :)”</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Tommy got exiled and left with Wil- Ghostbur, and the first time they contact me is with a Christmas card.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Phil asks, staring blankly at his son’s visibly uncomfortable expression. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Like- like deadass, they made Christmas cards in exile. And they read L- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Log</span>
  </em>
  <span>mas, for some reason.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Techno glances down at the thin stack of envelopes and back at Phil. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yeah. I guess.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Phil turns the blank side of the envelope and sighs.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What the fuck.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There’s a very detailed drawing of a log, penmarks in two distinct styles; Tommy’s recognizable wildly varying strokes and assumedly Wilbur’s, what with the thin and wavering lines. They’re much more faint then Wilbur would usually make, but Phil assumes it’s harder to hold a pen straight when there’s a faint chance your hand might go through it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There’s self-caricatures of the two, but with the slightly disturbing captions of ‘Logbur’ and ‘Loggyinnit,’ and Wilbur’s even gone through the trouble of drawing bags under Tommy’s eyes and the burn scars he and his corpse were left with from- </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>That.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Phil flicks his gaze back up to Techno’s and knows his face is visibly panicked. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You said they were doing fine, yesterday.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Techno adjusts his gaze slightly to the left of Phil’s eyes and grimaces. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“They were. But- Ghostbur is- a character, and Tommy’s never done well with being lonely. I didn’t run into them, just found where Wilbur had said he’d left them.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p><span>Phil sits down against the wall and opens the creamy envelope, Techno slumping down beside him.</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Two different letters fall to the ground, and Phil picks them both up. One is remarkably more shorter than the other, but it’s just Tommy’s compact script and the other is made of Wilbur’s half-block letters.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Technoblade gestures for Phil to start reading the letter in his hands, so he does. Awkwardly and starting with a stutter. </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“‘D-Dear Philza Minecraft and Techno ‘Hippocritnoblade’ Blade-’ What does</span><em><span> that </span></em><span>mean?” </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Techno makes a near shrugging motion with one of his shoulders. </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Keep reading.”</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Fine, right, all well and good then- ‘</span><em><span>We, (Logbur, who is writing this letter- is this a letter? It’s more of a </span></em><strike><em><span>Christ</span></em></strike><em><span>Logmas card- and Loggyinnit!) are wishing for you merry Logmas! As you may or may not have guessed, (i’m not sure) me and Tommy have changed our names in our new home of Logstedshire! </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span>There are skinned log walls and tents and BBH has left us a chest under Loggy’s very ugly dirt house. We are doing great!</span></em><span>’”</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Phil lowers the paper to his lap and sighs exasperatedly. </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Oh, my fucking god, they’re going batshit. Fuck, I knew it, I knew it-”</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Read on, old man,” Techno tugs Phil’s hat down on his head and Phil tips it past his eyes and blinks unamusedly at the tusked man beside him.</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Okay. Oh, oh god, oh fuck, why is this my life? <br/><br/><br/>‘</span><em><span>Today me</span></em> <em><span>and Loggy and Sapnap and Dream hung out and went to the Nether! Dream told me to get some photos of New L’Manberg for Tommy because he doesn’t want to go home. I’m not sure why. Me and Sapnap took photos of him standing atop the Christmas tree there and Tommy stayed with Dream still in the Nether for some reason.</span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>Then Dream and Sapnap left and me and Tommy prayed to Prime Log and gave it a bell. We also created LOGmas. It is Christmas but with logs and we made a very heavy log wreath that has fallen over every time we’ve tried to hang it so now it sits on the floor. LOGmas falls on the same day as Christmas, so there’s only 20 more Saturdays to go!</span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>Anyways, I was thinking that maybe for LOGmas you could give </span></em><em><span>T</span></em><em><span>Loggy some more photos of New L’Manberg? I would but he does not want to be alone, even though I’ve promised I’ll come back. And we would love for you to visit us, and I’ve already extended the offer to you, Techno, but if Phil would like to join the Lads On Tour, we have a spot so incredibly available!!</span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>Merry LOGmas or other holiday you might celebrate!  -Logbur”</span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><span>Phil drops his head against the wall and lets Techno begin reading his letter. </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Tommy wrote a bit less than Wilbur, but I’m expecting a lot worse in content. Here we go;</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><em><span>‘Hullo Philza Minecraft. Fuck you Technoblade. Life has been SHIT since I was fucking exiled by TUBBO but Logbur is finally calling me Loggyinnit so something must be okay. </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>I cussed at BBH. Dream and Sapnap, those fucking arseholes, visited and just kept following us around. It was weird and evil probably and I tried to kill Dream multiple times in the Nether but he didn’t die. It was horrible. </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>He wouldn’t let me come home, man, and all I wanted to do was say ‘Hullo! I may have friends! Hullo, friends!’ to everybody except Tubbo but he wouldn’t let me and threatened to kill me if I went through his stupid portal. </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>He says he </span></em><span>might</span><em><span> only </span></em><span>might</span><em><span> what the fuck just let me- let me back on Christmas but then starting being a prick again so me and Logbur decided fuck Christmas and now we celebrate LOGmas, which is much better and I made a wreath for Wilbur to hang up but he couldn’t and now it’s on the floor like some kind of floor shit and </span></em><strike><em><span>Dad</span></em></strike><em><span> Phil I just want to come home. </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>I wouldn’t even mind being here if it weren’t just me and Wilbur. Sometimes I don’t really even think I cared as much about L’Manberg as I wanted to have all my friends together. </span></em><strike><em><span>Sometimes I miss Tech-</span></em></strike><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>If you would send Wilbur some more of his books from his library I think he’d like that. </span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><em><span>Love, Loggyinnit.’</span></em><em><span><br/><br/></span></em><em><span><br/></span></em><span>“Well damn, that was much worse than I expected.” </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Techno runs his gloved hands over his face and turns to Phil.</span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Phil feels a gentle smile pull at his face and laughs. </span><span><br/><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Hey Techno, wanna go on tour?”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 7: Lights (Twins! Wilbur and Schlatt) Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The shadows around them elongate, the fading orange gleam of the sun dappling through Tred’s leaves and over the pond.</p><p> </p><p>“It is your birthday. So, like people- with, uh, birthdays do, I am giving you a present.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur shifts to his knees and reaches into his pocket, cool metal touching his fingertips.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh. Me too. Happy birthday, Schlatt. Here.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur quickly drops his gift into Schlatt’s startled but quick cupped hands. It’s a small oval-shaped disc of gold, shakily made, and engraved with a S.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I SKIPPED 6 bc ???? Hallmark movie???</p><p>Woops. </p><p>Then I went AU bullshit and once again had to post/format this on my phone, lmao, and part 2 will likely be tomorrow and NOT BE CANON COMPLIANT IN PLOT WOOO ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING POG??</p><p>But yes. </p><p>Schlatt n hornbur twins au brainrot :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Schlatt tugs on Wilbur’s yellow sleeve, Wilbur nearly tripping over his own feet and giggling all the way. They run to the other end of the underground room and Wilbur’s pulled up the stairs at a break-neck pace. </p><p> </p><p>“Schlatt, slow down, I’m going to trip!”</p><p><br/>The words are hardly audible over Schlatt’s own laughter and as suddenly as he had yanked Wilbur up from his seat on the floor, they stop in front of an oak tree adorned with a sign reading ‘tred’.</p><p><br/>“Oh. Hullo, Tred!”</p><p><br/>Wilbur waves at Tred and then turns to Schlatt, who rolls his eyes and begrudgingly gives in.</p><p><br/>“Hullo, Tred. Now follow me!”</p><p><br/>Once more, Wilbur is pulled behind the blue-sweatered boy to the edge of the blue-ribboned border of their small world and to the tiny pond. Schlatt’s moved their jukebox next to it and he drops Wilbur’s wrist from his hand and then the needle onto Ward.</p><p><br/>The record crackles to life and a quick funeral march passes into a lulling melody that makes Wilbur’s lips pull into a smile. Schlatt walks back to his side and grins. Wilbur has to look up to meet Schlatt’s eyes now and it’s incredibly unfair, but the look of anticipation in Schlatt’s brown eyes makes him wait to whine about that until later.</p><p><br/>“What?” He shoves his shoulder into Schlatt’s side and Schlatt makes a huff and flicks one fluffy ear.</p><p><br/>“Okay, you’re going to have to wait, but-” Schlatt gestures for Wilbur to sit and leans over the back of the jukebox, attempting to picking up something, short tail nearly wagging.</p><p><br/>Wilbur sits cross-legged and leans to the side, head nearly brushing the ground and squinting.</p><p><br/>“I don’t have my glasses on. What’re you doing?”</p><p><br/>“Shuddup.” Schlatt finally appears to grab- whatever he wanted, and quickly turns around, hands behind his back.</p><p><br/>Wilbur sits back up straight, and Schlatt steps forwards slowly. The ram-horned boy looks behind himself at the sky past the border, which is turning watercolour shades of pink and orange in the dying sunlight. The sun slips its last past the horizon, sky pooling into purples and blue as Schlatt sits beside Wilbur, knees touching and so close to the pond that if they stretched their legs they could stand in the water.</p><p><br/>“Alright. Wilbur!” Schlatt puffs up his chest and tilts his head up, looking everything like a regal figure about to present an award (to Wilbur, at least.)</p><p><br/>The shadows around them elongate, the fading orange gleam of the sun dappling through Tred’s leaves and over the pond.</p><p><br/>“It is your birthday. So, like people- with, uh, birthdays do, I am giving you a present.”</p><p><br/>Wilbur shifts to his knees and reaches into his pocket, cool metal touching his fingertips.</p><p><br/>“Uh. Me too. Happy birthday, Schlatt. Here.”</p><p><br/>Wilbur quickly drops his gift into Schlatt’s startled but quick cupped hands. It’s a small oval-shaped disc of gold, shakily made, and engraved with a S.</p><p><br/>“You always like to talk about- Schlattcoin, or whatever it is, so I tried to make one.”</p><p><br/>Wilbur leans over and picks up the leather cord on the coin.</p><p><br/>“And you can wear it. As a necklace, if you’d like.” Wilbur feels so tentative, somehow, over this gift. But he and Schlatt had only read about Birthdays a week ago and planned their first for today, and Wilbur wants it to be special.</p><p><br/>Schlatt is silent, and Wilbur’s breath hitches in his throat, but Schlatt tugs the necklace over his head after maneuvering it past his horns.</p><p><br/>The blue-sweatered boy doesn’t say anything, but reaches behind himself and pulls a glowing jaw from his back.</p><p><br/>The world around them is dark enough for whatever Schlatt holds to illuminate their faces, make out the warm crease of Schlatt’s eyes.</p><p><br/>“Happy birthday, Wilbur.”</p><p><br/>The lid comes off the jar, and inside is water and- some green-blue gleaming things, and Schlatt pours them into the pond.</p><p><br/>The strange flowy creatures spread out in the water, and Wilbur is stunned-shocked, eyes wide and lips parted, a hand outstretched to almost brush the top of the pond’s surface.</p><p><br/>“Wh-what are those?”</p><p><br/>Wilbur’s voice is hushed and Schlatt makes a pleased noise.</p><p><br/>“You like them?” His voice is similarly gentle, and excited.</p><p><br/>“Of course.”</p><p><br/>“They’re glowsquids. I found them in a pocket of water in the mine.</p><p><br/>“Oh.”</p><p><br/>Wilbur remains on his knees, staring unblinkingly at the swimming squids, glow cast over his body and brighter than the stars.</p><p><br/>“You can lean over and look at them, you know.”</p><p><br/>With a shuffle and pushing the empty jar to the side, Wilbur leans over the pool of now almost shimmering water, and feels Schlatt move beside him.</p><p><br/>Wilbur then notices Schlatt’s reflection in the water, a giant smile and light giving his horns curled around his head a sheen. Schlatt flicks an ear, noticing Wilbur’s gaze on his mirror image, and Wilbur then looks at his, his own gentle smile and curls nearly covering his eyes.</p><p><br/>Looks at his own matching set of fur-tipped ears and horns spiraling around his ears.</p><p><br/>Wilbur leans back and Schlatt follows, and the twins laugh and thud their horns together, slipping into a hug halfway through.</p><p><br/>“Thank you, Schlatt,” Wilbur breathes into his brother’s ear, and feels Schlatt’s arms tighten around him.</p><p><br/>“You too, Wil.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>     “Happy birthday, Wilbur.”</p><p><br/>He splays himself beside Milo’s tank, wind whistling in his ears like it is wont to do, always, forever, until Wilbur dies and goes to sleep. The terracotta is cold and hard against his back, grounding. He lays face to the open air, breeze cutting his skin and numbing his fingers. The sky is of course endless, stars so faint and inconsequential and like him, once bright and smiling and now cold and expiring.</p><p><br/>Fuck, he’s getting maudlin.</p><p><br/>    Wilbur turns his head to the side, to Milo’s tank, where the fish in question swims unceasingly, coral glittering in the refracted light of the sea pickled in the corner.</p><p><br/>Wilbur imagines his horns are glittering in the sheen of the glowing plant, knows the pink, shiny, still healing and ugly scar covering half of his face and rest of his body is shining yellow in the gleam. He notices how his distorted reflection, with the curls and twisting horns crowning his head looks like-</p><p><br/>Him.</p><p><br/>A memory of magma and heat and searing, blurring pain; a twin smile becoming stretched impossibly wide and a vice grip around his wrists, wrestling him back and down, and down down down.</p><p><br/>Wilbur’s scars make a ghostly twinge and he turns from the light.</p><p><br/>He flickers his gaze to the golden pick laying beside his boot on the floor and sits up.</p><p><br/>Takes it in hand and contemplates the sharpened edge.</p><p><br/>Brings it up to his face, grabs the side of his horn, and swings-</p><p> </p><p>There’s a clatter on the ground and a dull aching pain in Wilbur’s buzzing, blurring head. He lifts the hand not wrapped tight around the pick’s handle to his head, and asides from the wet red trickling down his fingers, he feels fine. </p><p><br/>Moments later the other horn lands on the ground and is kicked off into the endless sky. </p><p><br/>Wilbur’s head feels much lighter. </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Completed</h2></a>
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    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hullo! Just an update to announce my discontinuation/completion of this challenge/prompt list!!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I haven’t had time for more of my planned out oneshots/series by doing this challenge, but I will now that I’ve quit partaking!! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I should be releasing the part 2/whole fic vets of the Schlatt &amp; Wilbur Twins AU by tomorrow and also be on the lookout for a pink/hoglin!bur twin fic, a series of larger one-shots involving colours (yellow and blue and) and hopefully the first mainline fic in the Ozymandias AU!!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">&lt;3</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ily and also JOIN WRITERS BLOCK DISCORD!! Readers/Writers/Artists of MCYT are all v welcome and it’s the first Discord I’ve joined and I love it so. </span>
</p><p>https://discord.gg/w9CwSK26mm</p>
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